


Mistaken For Strangers

by elleTchj



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, M/M, Misunderstandings, Self-Hatred, Time Travel, Work In Progress, kallus is Not having a good time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:14:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23570662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elleTchj/pseuds/elleTchj
Summary: A routine mission to investigate an Imperial research station goes astray and Kallus finds himself lost in a time where his friends are notably less friendly, and his partner wants him dead.
Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios, Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla
Comments: 61
Kudos: 263





	1. Before The Storm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fulcrum_reader](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fulcrum_reader/gifts).



> Disclaimers: English is not my first language and I haven't written fanfiction in over ten years.  
> All science can and will be inaccurate, I didn't flunk my thermodynamics class for no reason.
> 
> All my thanks to @fulcrum_reader and @whiplashcrash for the beta! And everyone in the Kalluzeb discord for their support, I probably would never have started writing this otherwise.

“Have you ever seen anything like that?”

“Not really. The shape is quite odd for a space station.”

From their small stolen Imperial transport ship, the two rebel captains were musing over the puzzling torus-shaped station they were headed to. Zeb was pacing around the shuttle, taking his bo-rifle off his back and putting it away again repeatedly. He was nervous, and he had every reason to be. The intel Kallus had on what the Empire was doing there was limited but worrying. 

Some planets had had their crumbling Jedi temples raided, and from what he’d gathered, the stolen artifacts were brought to an Imperial research facility. Kallus had diligently tracked the paperwork, hacked into a couple of under-protected networks, and even tricked a drunken officer into revealing classified information. 

That last part was surprisingly easy: there was nothing officers loved to do more than complain about their peers, and all Kallus had to do was to find who had a bone to pick with who. One of the many good things about being a rebel, he’d discovered in the past three years, was that people in the rebellion tended to actually like each other. Unthinkable yet true.

“You okay there? You spaced-out for a bit.” Zeb put one of his clawed hands on Kallus’s shoulder. Kallus brought his own hand over the Lasat’s and tenderly stroked his knuckles.

“I’m alright. Just a little anxious.” Kallus felt soft lips at the crook of his neck, tenderly kissing the bruised flesh there. They had made good use of the four-hour-long trip to the station. Zeb had marked Kallus as he liked to do, burying his teeth deep in the tender flesh above Kallus’s clavicle while he had his human lover begging for more. Kallus always felt a little sore afterward, but he wore the mark with pride: ‘A Lasat loves me, and I’m the luckiest man in the galaxy for it’.

He crooked his neck to give Zeb a small peck on the cheek. “What do the scanners say?”

Zeb removed his hand and walked toward the console. “Still nothing.” He turned his head back towards the other man.“I don’t like this, Kal. Looks like a trap.” 

He was right. The station appeared dead when they had dropped out of hyperspace, and no one had responded to their transmissions. After all the work Kallus had put in obtaining the correct access codes, he felt a bit irked. But the most pressing matter was the seemingly empty and oddly-shaped vessel in front of them.

“I’ll disembark and do some quick recon. Just in and out, I promise.” Kallus started putting on the black communication officer’s costume he’d used on many infiltration missions before. No one tended to pay attention to low-level officers but they could access more restricted areas than your common stormtrooper. A perfect disguise. He tied his hair in a tight ponytail, tucking it under the officers’ cap he’d just put on. He turned on his heels, submitting his attire for Zeb’s approval.

“How do I look? Imperial enough?” he asked. The Lasat grumbled something about wearing black and old habits, then stepped forward, towering over Kallus. He tucked a wild strand of hair back in line and trailed over Kallus’s golden mutton chops as he pulled back.

“Better now. But you still look like you with _these_ ,” Zeb said as he gave Kallus’s facial hair an affectionate scratch.

“You sulked for a week when I shaved last time!” Kallus's bright laugh brought a smile to the Lasat’s face. “I’m not taking the risk again.” 

“Fine, you win. Station’s empty anyway.”

He finished adjusting his clothes- they fit a little too tight, rebel life had made him bulkier than Imperial regulation would allow- and sat in the co-pilot’s chair. Zeb followed suit and started turning the engine back on. Kallus transmitted the codes once more, just to be safe. He was not about to let them go to waste.

While they flew closer to the station, they caught glimpses of broken structures floating inside the ring of metal. Much of the external plating had been ripped away, leaving parts of the station exposed to the cold void of space. There were no lights, and the whole vessel seemed eerily suspended in time. They kept going, looking for somewhere to dock the shuttle. The gaping holes in the station at least reassured them that there was very little risk the Empire was still stationed there. No point in protecting someone’s pet project about to fall apart when you have a rebel alliance to hunt.

Finally, they located a section that seemed stable, and Zeb slowly maneuvered the ship into the adjacent hangar. The muffled _thud_ the shuttle made as it stabilized was Kallus’s signal to go. They had gotten lucky; the artificial gravity and shields were still functional: no need to poke around with limited oxygen while they looked for the _on_ switch.

“You sure you don’t want me to go with you?” the Lasat asked, his eyes pleading.

“I’d rather have a shuttle ready to pick me up if this thing starts crumbling around me, Zeb.” He only got a worried grumble in response. 

“Come on. Let’s do this.” Kallus got up, readjusted his hat (just in case they were still Imperial forces on the ship) and headed to the transport’s exit.

“Aren’t you forgettin’ something?” Zeb called out with a cheeky grin, having gotten over his grumpy streak. The ex-Imperial sighed theatrically and jogged back to the cockpit before planting his lips on the Lasat’s. Zeb’s hand found the back of his neck and pressed him closer. Kallus braced his hand on the chair to keep his balance, indulging his lover. 

Still, he swiftly pulled away, gave Zeb’s mouth a quick peck and rubbed his left cheek against Zeb’s jaw. He got a chuckle in return and the lasat turned his head, allowing Kallus to rub against his other cheek as well. Kallus had first thought Zeb was pulling his leg when he’d explained that Lasats kissed that way. But he’d grown very fond of it since.

“I’m here if you need backup,” Zeb said, and patted Kallus's breast pocket.“Keep your comm close.”

Kallus rolled his eyes and headed back to the exit, but not before giving Zeb one last smile. “I’ll be careful, don’t worry.”

“You better.” A pause, and much softer: “Love you, Sasha.”

The nickname made Kallus’s chest grow warm. A heartfelt, “I love you too,” was all he managed to say before leaving the ship.

\---

As he disembarked, Kallus first noticed that everything that wasn’t nailed down had drifted to the side of the room in a messy pile, some of the crates’ contents spilling on the floor. He got closer, but not before a quick visual swipe of the hangar. (He _did_ promise Zeb he’d be careful). What had fallen from the crates was nothing unusual to find in an Imperial station: blasters, spare uniforms, ration packets. Kallus made a face at the last one. The simple memory of the slightly bitter taste of the Empire-issued packets made him feel sick; he idly wondered how he had managed to survive while eating just rations for ten long years. 

Shrugging away the thought, Kallus continued his inspection of the room. Apart from the odd pile-up, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He headed towards the hangar door only to find it locked. Just his luck. 

Leaning on his good leg, he gripped the cold metal edge of the door with both hands, pulling with all his strength. He felt his gloved fingers slip a second too late to react and tumbled backward towards the crates.

“Kal! What was that?” Zeb’s worried voice crackled through the comm.

“Just had a little scuffle with a door. Nothing to worry about,” Kallus joked. He propped himself up on his elbows but stopped mid-movement. Something was written on a sign, high up on the upper platform.

**“JANUS”**

The name rang familiar. Kallus rattled his brain trying to figure out where exactly he knew it from. For him, it was like opening a bunch of boxes, consulting the files inside one by one.

 _Konstantine._ That was unlikely, the man was long dead and he hadn’t been one for experimental research when he was still alive.

 _Thrawn._ That kind of peculiar project was his style, but he had been missing for years now. Higher up then.

 _Palpatine._ Too high up. But he was close. He dug deeper until he found the name he was looking for.

 _Janus Greejatus._ One of the Emperor’s closest advisors. So this project was likely directly linked to Palpatine himself. This was bad. Extremely bad.

Kallus tried to settle his breathing, analyze the situation objectively. The station was abandoned. Whatever the project had been, it had ended in failure. There was nothing to fear, nothing like the Death Star. He waited until the slight tremors in his hand quieted down to get up. Alderaan had been a shock to everyone, but knowing that, in a way, he had allowed it to happen by serving the Empire for so long had shaken him to the core. No point in mulling over it now though. Captain Kallus had a job to do.

He went through the motions: find a ladder, make his way to the upper part of the hangar, figure out where the mysterious sign led. Easy. Running into a partially-open door. Too easy. Instinctively, he put his hand over his blaster.

The door seemed stuck and Kallus had to squeeze himself through to the other side. The corridor it led to was dark, save for flashes of light from a defective lamp. Kallus made his way forward silently, his footsteps light, checking every corner. He took comfort in knowing that Zeb had his back, raising his hand to the comm in his breast pocket without even meaning to. He tried opening door after door, but all of them seemed out of power. There were names written on some of them, but none he recognized. 

He felt something soft under his foot. A technician’s garb, probably left behind in a hurry. The back of the coat read _‘Project Janus’_ in bright red letters. Kallus dug in the pockets, but he found nothing save for tissues and an empty ration packet. Disappointing, but not surprising. From what little he knew about the project, saying the security around it was tight would have been an understatement, and its technicians probably didn’t walk around with schematics in their pockets. Better keep going.

The corridor led to a room with a large transparisteel viewport. The light from outside allowed Kallus to map a quick layout of the space, where to hide in case of a firefight, where to escape from. He moved in carefully, keeping low, blaster in hand. He could see the inside of the station’s ring from the viewport, all torn up. Thank the force the window had held up against whatever had happened out there. Kallus did not fancy the idea of being flung into space.

He kept analyzing the room, noting the three pillars, each covered in odd wiring and placed in a triangle around the viewport. He could see _something_ on top of each of them, but it was too dark for him to make out what it was. At the center of the setup laid an unassuming console, covered in electrical burns. Kallus looked left and right before making his way over to the switchboard, still not fully certain he was alone.

He tried turning the console on, fumbling for a switch in the dim light of the room. He bent down, feeling underneath until he heard a distinctive _click_ and the familiar hum of a holo display. The display was flickering, almost unreadable. Someone had probably tried to erase the data when they left, but ran out of time before they could see it through. But Kallus still managed to discover a couple of key information through the static.

One, his hunch had been correct. The project was a personal project of the Emperor himself, but it had been helmed by Janus Greejatus for the past two years. Until the station blew up to bits. He couldn’t make out the purpose of the project, most of it was redacted, but he saw the words _“travel”_ and _“door”_ repeated multiple times in files. 

Second, the project was somehow linked to Lothal. Kallus felt his heart ache as he saw the peculiar rock formations on the planet flash across the screen. He also caught a glimpse of the giant wolves that had come to their aid in their final fight against the Imperial occupation of Lothal. What did the Empire want with them?

And last, he found a schematic of the structure. The inside of the ring seemed completely hollow, and the room he was in was some sort of command center. What could have happened there for the station to be left in such a devastated state? Kallus felt a chill run up his spine. Being alone in the eerily silent station was making him uneasy. _Something_ felt off and he didn’t care to stick around and find out what it was. In a hurry, he took out a data chip from his pocket and started downloading the files. 

Kallus took his communicator out and pinged his companion back in the shuttle.

“Zeb, I’m heading back. Just getting some data, it shouldn’t take too long.”

“Copy that. I’ll war-” The answer devolved in static. Kallus tried shaking his comm, to no avail. He yanked the data chip away from the console and turned around. Only to be met with the end of a familiar Imperial- issued blaster.  
  


\---

“I knew it was you. You can fancy yourself a rebel, but I’d recognize that snotty Coruscanti accent anywhere.”

Kallus squinted, trying to make out the face of the man behind the blaster. He saw greying hair framing an angular face, and over the eye on the left, a well-worn eyepatch.

 _Jovan._ He felt his throat go dry and his heartbeat accelerate. He’d sent him to jail, years before, when he was still under the grip of the Empire. Jovan had defected, just like Kallus had eventually, but unlike Kallus, he had gotten caught.

“Jovan, we can work this out, you don’t have t-” The stock of the blaster hit Kallus’s head with a loud _thunk_ , projecting him to the ground. He braced himself and tried to get up, but Jovan still had him at gunpoint. 

“Oh, can we? Come back when you’ve spent two years in an Imperial prison, and then we can work it out.” Jovan retorted with a snarl. Now that he was above him, Kallus could see him more clearly in the dim light of the viewport. He looked exhausted, his hair wild and his glare almost feral. Jovan was angry, and he was dangerous.

“I’m sorry I did this to you, it was wrong, but killing me won’t solve anything.” Kallus pleaded. He held his hands up in a sign of surrender. “Come back with me to the Rebel Alliance. We can solve this.” 

Jovan scoffed. “Nah. Not interested in playing hero. But this,” he gestured at the console “this could be big money.” He laughed when he saw Kallus’s eyes go wide in indignation.“Please. Like you didn’t defect for the same reasons I did.”

“I defected because it was the right thing to do.” Kallus answered, his voice strangely quiet.

“Right, because that’s what you do isn’t? The right thing?” He kicked Kallus in the stomach, making him double over. “Funny, that’s also what you said when you worked for the other side.”

While Kallus tried to catch his breath, Jovan made his way to the console. He pushed a couple of switches which made the screen light up with a code prompt. Jovan fumbled with his coat looking for something in his pocket. Taking advantage of the distraction, Kallus tried to reach for his communicator.

A blaster shot it out of his hand. Kallus screamed at the pain of the burn, clenching his fist over his chest.

“I’ll have none of that. Are you really trying to contact your Lasat friend? Even after I jammed your comms?” He turned back to the display, his blaster still aimed at Kallus.

The rebel captain stayed silent, weighing his options. He would have to manage without Zeb and disarm Jovan before escaping. The man seemed pretty focused on the task at hand but he was alert, as Kallus’s burned hand reminded him. Slowly, silently, he dragged himself until he was behind Jovan.

“You know, I saw the both of you fly in,” Jovan said, still facing the display as he typed an access code in. “I was just here hoping to make a quick credit from the scrap, but getting to teach you a lesson? That’s priceless.” 

The screen lit up again, more stable this time, as Jovan brandished a small key. He inserted it in a small slot on the side of the console. The only thing Kallus could hear was the soft thrum of the life support system and his own heart beating wildly as he remembered Alderaan. _Not this,_ he thought. _Not again._

“Jovan, don’t!” He yelled out, brandishing his blaster. Too little, too late. Jovan turned the key.

A blue light traveled through the wires emanating from the console, making their way to each of the three pillars. The pillars started emitting a vibration, a low hum filling the room. Kallus felt something shake beneath him. Like a behemoth emerging from its sleep, the station sluggishly started moving. _No._ Kallus corrected himself. It started rotating.

Kallus stood up, his blaster aimed at Jovan. He heard a muffled noise behind him, which he assumed was the door shutting the both of them in.

“What did you _do_?” He had to scream over the sound of the mechanism working around them getting louder and louder.

“Do you know what this station was built for?” Jovan didn’t turn around as he spoke. “Apparently, some of this Force nonsense allows people to travel through _time_. This,” he gestured at the viewport “, is an attempt to reproduce that power.”

For a second, Kallus looked through the plastisteel window. It was enough to make him freeze in place. The ring was rotating at an insane speed, and in its center, a sphere of bright crackling energy was growing. It was pulling the adjacent metal plating in, tearing it apart. It was beautiful and _terrifying_. He felt himself get drawn into the abyss outside, and the effort it took to refocus his attention on Jovan made him shake.

“The project failed, Jovan, you’re about to get us both killed!” Kallus stepped in closer, hoping that somehow, there was a way to stop the process if he got his hands on the controls. Suddenly, Jovan turned around, throwing a punch in Kallus’s direction. He was barely able to block it before stepping back, his blaster still aimed at the other man.

“Maybe you’re going to get killed. _I_ am going back to a time before you ruined my life.” As Jovan said the words, Kallus’s thought went to Zeb and a shudder of terror ran through him.

 _Zeb is in danger._ The Lasat would never abandon him, even going as far as to risk his own life. And who knew if the hangar was safe? Karabast, there was even a possibility that his partner had taken the shuttle to try and find a way around, right through the epicenter of the ring of energy tearing everything apart. Kallus needed to stop the machine at all costs. He couldn’t bear the idea of Zeb dying for him. Not ever.

Blaster at the ready, Kallus took a step forward. The instant his foot hit the ground, a blast of energy tore through the room. From the top of each of the three pillars beamed a ray of burning light, and at their intersection, the air seemed to be tearing apart. Like reality was peeling, and you could see what was hiding underneath. As the portal got larger, Jovan stepped in front of it.

“I don’t want to hurt you! But I have to stop you, Jovan.” Kallus implored. 

“I’d like to see you try!” Jovan glowered, and started pushing his hand through the portal. “The Rebellion has made you soft, Kallus.” he commented, before starting to step through.

Kallus leaped into action, throwing himself towards the console. His mind hadn’t caught up yet, and he did what he thought was the most obvious. He shot at the machine, discharging his blaster. A jolt of energy erupted from the metal contraption and landed on the pillars. Cracks started appearing around the surface, a sickly blue light shining underneath. The whole room shook as the ring came to a sudden stop, making Kallus lose his balance.

“NO!” Jovan shouted as he grabbed Kallus by the neck, dragging him away from the machine. Kallus defended himself, trying to elbow the man behind him, jerking around to try and set himself free. But Jovan wouldn’t budge.

Of course, in his current predicament, Kallus couldn’t see it. But he felt the pull. The ground slipping under his feet as he fell backward. He could still see the console crackling and burning in front of him, but a bright light was creeping around the edges of his vision. _It’s shutting down._ He realized, _I did it. Zeb is safe._

He couldn’t feel Jovan’s grip around his neck anymore. It felt like floating. He was surrounded by a sea of white. In the distance, dark rings were slowly, inexorably turning. Kallus felt something tug at his heart. This place was wrong, somehow. Like a copy of a copy of something much bigger and inscrutable.

Then, he felt it again. The pull. The bright tunnel turned dark, and Alexsandr Kallus shut his eyes, bracing himself for whatever was waiting for him on the other side.  
  


\---

_On the station, Zeb forcefully opens the door to the command center. He doesn’t find his partner there, as he hoped. Instead, he finds charred pillars, a destroyed console and an abandoned communicator in a corner. He grabs the comm carefully and tucks it away safely in his pocket. He gets up and stumbles, bracing himself against one of the pillars. He looks around, ears twitching wildly. He can smell Kallus has been here, but the trail has gone cold. He covers his face with his hands and quietly mumbles._

_“Sasha, what happened to you?”_

[ ](https://imgur.com/cbPAVjf)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All my thanks to my beta @fulcrum_reader !

It would have been a lie to pretend that Kallus’s exit from the portal had been smooth. He found himself ejected against a wall, his back banging on the cold metal. He could barely breathe, like he’d been holding his breath for too long. He wheezed as he tentatively stood back up, leaning on the panel behind him. His head was spinning, and he couldn’t keep his eyes open.

Kallus heard a cough coming from his left and tried to focus his blurry vision. Jovan was in the same pitiful state as he was, lying half-suffocating on the floor. With great difficulty, Kallus lunged at the other man, trying to take his only chance at gaining the upper hand. He fell forward, his legs just not holding up to the sudden motion. His fist made contact with Jovan’s face with a satisfying _crack_ nonetheless.

Jovan counter-attacked, kicking Kallus’s chest with all his strength. The impact had Kallus choking, his lungs gasping for air. He tried to reach for his adversary’s collar, but his hands slipped on the fabric. Jovan tore himself away, scrambling to get up while blood ran down his face from his broken nose. Another kick, just for good measure, and he took off, leaving Kallus struggling to breathe on the floor. 

Kallus watched Jovan limp away, leaving bloody handprints on the wall he was leaning on. He tried to call out, get up, anything! But his body was hurting so bad, his heart beating erratically, his eyesight deteriorating. Despite his best efforts, Kallus passed out, a hand extended toward a man who was already gone.

\---

_“Agent Kallus?”_

“Agent Kallus, can you hear me?” The voice rang inside Kallus’s head, the shrill tone making it hard to bear. He flipped over with great difficulty and cracked his eyes open to be met with a man he thought he would never see again. A very alive Cumberlayne Aresko was towering over him with a puzzled look. The last time Kallus had seen his ghastly pale face, it was rolling on the cold ground of the main office of the Academy. It just didn’t make _sense_. Unless… 

Kallus’s pupils grew wide as the realization dawned on him. He leaned on his elbows, studying his surroundings. He was in an Imperial facility; the stark grey corridors and bleak lighting made it obvious. That and the stormtrooper he saw patrolling in the back. Kallus’s rational mind was struggling with the idea, but deep in his guts, he knew it. Jovan had told the truth. Somehow, they had gone back in time. _At least 6 years back_ , he mused, _considering Aresko is still in one piece._

“Sir, are you alright?” Aresko asked again, sounding irritated rather than concerned. Kallus needed to act, fast. Maintain the cover, fade in, use the skills he’d acquired as Fulcrum.

“I am _fine_ ,” Kallus said with the most disdain he could muster. Aresko tensed, folding his hands behind his back. A tinge of fear distorted his gaunt features. There, Kallus still had it. He felt a weight in his stomach as a thought surfaced, slithering from some dark part of his brain. _You slip back into your Imperial habits so easily. It’s like you never left._ He scrunched his eyes, trying to will the idea away and get it together. He was in a precarious situation in the first place, letting his insecurities swallow him was not going to help in any way.

“I’ve sent a squad after your assailant. They must have been quite the opponent to leave you so battered,” Aresko snickered, not even trying to hide his glee at catching his superior in a compromised state. Kallus registered the information still. Jovan had imperial troops after him, which would make it harder for him to disappear. There was hope. Kallus could yet find him, and maybe, just maybe, find out how to go back. (Not that he had fully accepted that he was in the past. Part of him still thought all of it was a very bad pain-induced hallucination.)

Kallus tentatively stood up, minding his bad leg. It felt shaky and he found himself yearning for his crutch back at base. He didn’t use it too often but it was a blessing on the days when his body just couldn’t hold up to the stress of the battle against the Empire. Bearing with the ache nonetheless, he tightened his posture, sucked in his gut and tried to reproduce the rigid stance from his ISB agent days. The way Aresko avoided his gaze, Kallus’s physical presence had done the trick.

“If I may… Not to question your methods, Agent Kallus, but your appearance is...” The commandant swallowed. ”Quite _unusual_.”

Ah. Of course Aresko was going to ask. When he’d realized there were no regulations holding him back in the Alliance, Kallus had grown his hair way past the ISB-approved length. Untied, it almost reached his shoulders, but he usually ended up putting it up a loose ponytail. And if not for the hair, he was also notably bulkier than he had been as an agent, thanks to a diet of solid food and a partner who made sure he was eating properly. Kriff, even the beard he’d grown over the years would have tipped anyone off.

“If you must know, I have been mandated by the Inquisitor to infiltrate the rebel cell _you_ have repeatedly failed to apprehend. One wouldn’t be foolish enough to do so without a disguise, would they?” From what Kallus remembered of the man, Aresko was a coward under his self-important guise. Threaten him enough, and he was willing to let about anything slide without questions.

“Yes of course, I-” Aresko was growing paler, if that even were possible, considering his natural sickly complexion. “A disguise is a brilliant idea, sir,” he elaborated, feigning enthusiasm. 

Kallus just raised an eyebrow at him, hoping it would shut the man up for a moment. Internally, he was trying to make sense of what had just happened, now that he had a short moment of respite.

 _Focus, Alexsandr. Focus._ He was in the past, _that_ he had to accept. Six years in the past to be precise. By an incredible stroke of luck, the Imperial garrison was in pursuit of Jovan and believed that their Agent Kallus had been viciously attacked within the walls of the Academy. The Academy? He looked around, hoping to find some signage that would give him a hint as to where he was, but no luck. Location was still an unknown variable then. If he could gain access to his old office, maybe he could-

A feeling of dread overwhelmed him. He hadn’t even considered it in his hurry, but if he had truly time-travelled, then... theoretically, he could cross paths with his past self. Kallus couldn’t possibly know what would happen if he did, but he did not want to find out. He needed to get out of wherever he was, find a safe place to hole up in, and plan out his next move.

“Sir, we have a situation at the East gate.” The crackling of the comm interrupted Kallus’ train of thought. Could it be that Jovan still hadn’t escaped? His eye caught a squadron of stormtroopers running past at the opposite end of the corridor, and saw his occasion to ditch Aresko. The man was far from the brightest mind the Empire had to offer, but he would still notice something was off if Kallus stayed around for too long. He started running, trying to catch up to the squadron.

“Agent Kallus, what are you-?”

“Tell the garrison that I’m in pursuit!” Kallus interrupted, just before disappearing around the corner.

\---

He ran through the corridors, trying to find a familiar sight, anything that would help him place the bleak metallic hallways around him. The troopers, knowing their way, were much faster than him and he wanted to avoid getting lost at all costs. No time to waste. He could have called out to them, but that would mean another set of people he had to explain his appearance to. Better not. So Kallus ran, ignoring the ache in his leg and his lungs begging for a break.

He made a sharp left turn, his boots sliding on the duracrete floor, only to find the hallway in front of him empty. Out of breath, he stopped and leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees. _Kriff-_ He’d lost his only clue. 

The swoosh of a door behind Kallus made him turn around, and he rushed to the other side of the corridor. Someone had just gone into what seemed to be a utility closet. _Where we keep the equipment_ , he realized, _including the comms._

Kallus sneaked in before the door closed and hid behind the first row of shelves. attempting to figure out an airtight excuse as to why he needed a new communicator. Trying to find out who he was dealing with, he peeked through the rack filled with chest plates. The lights were off. He couldn’t make out who was whispering in the dark.

“-ast gate, they sent a whole squadron.” The voice sounded young, and worried. A cadet, perhaps. Kallus leaned forward, trying to discern what was being said. He felt something bump on his elbow, and he saw a precariously placed belt tumble off the shelf. He was a second too late to catch it and it made a muffled sound as it hit the ground. Now he was in trouble. 

“Who’s there?” the cadet called out. Kallus could hear a tinge of fear in his voice, which made sense. People didn’t usually hide in supply closets to transmit information. Something notably _rebellious_ was going on.

“At ease, cadet,” Kallus answered, stepping out of his hiding place. Now that he had an unobstructed view, he could see a teenager with dark skin and short hair, wearing the Academy’s uniform. He was holding a commlink that he hid from view as soon as he saw Kallus. 

“Sir! I was just doing some, uh, inventory.” He stammered while giving a quick salute.

 _In the dark?_ Kallus almost answered, but restrained himself. No need to antagonize the cadet, he just needed to get his hands on a working garrison helmet and get out. He started walking toward the rack the helmets were lined on, pushing the young man out the way.

“I only need one of these, please do keep going with the inventory.” Kallus didn’t need to elaborate, but he felt compelled to say _something_ to make the cadet more at ease. Whatever he was up to, the teenager was looking at Kallus with a bad mix of fear and cold, simmering anger. Kallus grabbed a helmet off the shelf and turned the volume dial up, until he could hear the Imperial information feed through the speaker. 

“We’ve got them! But we need backup, they-” The trooper’s transmission was cut by a high-pitched scream and the sound of someone being thrown in the air. 

“Copy that. Keep them inside the complex. These rebels must not get away!” The voice had Kallus’s stomach turn. It was so familiar. It was _his_.

The cadet’s eyes went from the helmet, to Kallus, and back again. His brows furrowed in a confused look. He looked the older man over, taking in the differences between the agent he knew and the man in front of him.

“Who _are_ you?” He seemed to have gained some confidence, looking Kallus straight in the eyes as he asked. 

“I don’t have the time to explain,” Kallus pleaded, clutching the trooper helmet. “I promise I’m not here to arrest you, or the friends you were talking to earli-” His eyes grew wide. 

Of course, he chastised himself. He knew who the teenager was. After he’d joined the rebellion, he had learned that the Spectres used to have an informant in the walls of the Imperial complex on Lothal, a cadet by the name of Zare Leonis. He’d even tried to recruit him into the intelligence division but had received a polite refusal, Zare wanting to help liberate his planet first.

“Zare, listen. The people at the eastern gate, they’re the crew of the Ghost, right?”

“How do you know my name?” Zare looked at him with even more suspicion, backing up against the armor racks.

“Please, it’s not important right now, I just need to know if they’re here,” Kallus insisted. If he ever were to make it back to his own time, the rebels were probably his best bet. It was a foolish plan, but the only decent one he had.

Zare crossed his arms defensively, frowning just a little harder. Kallus couldn’t help but admire his loyalty to his friends. A brave heart like his would have been wasted in the Empire.

“Trust me. _Please_.” Kallus leaned forward in an unconscious attempt to make himself smaller. He knew it was just his word, but he hoped so badly that the cadet could see the truth of his words, just as the Spectres had once before.

The silence seemed to stretch on forever, until Zane sighed and stepped forward, gesturing to the door.

“They’re in the main hangar. You can get there faster if you cut through the canteen.” He caught Kallus’s confused glare and added, “First door on the left. You can’t miss it.”

“Thank you,” Kallus answered with as much sincerity he could muster. He gave Zare a polite nod, and sprinted out of the armory, letting the helmet roll on the ground.

\---

Kallus rushed through the hallways, the canteen, the eastern wing. He was starting to remember the layout of the complex, but it did not comfort him. Neither did the troopers jumping to their feet to salute him here and there. The bleak lights made the halls he ran by made him feel cold and oh so lonely. _I need to get out of here._ He wasn’t rushing anymore. He was fleeing.

He saw the high ceiling of the hangar up ahead, and made a left. It wasn’t a good idea to jump directly into the scuffle he could hear from afar. Not with _himself_ (he shuddered at the thought) probably taking part in the fight. Kallus sneaked through the side entrance, hoping the TIEs parked there would hide him well enough.

Intellectually, Kallus knew that being in the past meant the Ghost’s crew was complete. But nothing could prepare him for the pangs of sadness he felt at seeing Ezra and Kanan, fighting back to back. The two force users were in the process of dispatching a squadron of troopers, and they were holding their ground. Kallus noticed Ezra’s lightsaber looked different, and when Kanan turned to force throw a stormtrooper away, Kallus couldn’t help but recoil at how young he looked. _He’s not even blind yet_ , his mind unhelpfully suggested.

“Karabast, Kanan! This place was supposed to be empty!”

Oh.

_Oh._

Kallus had to stop himself from leaping from his hiding spot when he heard Zeb’s voice. _My fool of a Lasat! My love!_ He wanted nothing more than jump in the Lasat’s arms and lose himself in the comfort of his fur. It took all his resolve not to step out under the bright lights of the hangar.

Instead, he just looked on as Zeb dragged a stack of crates from one of the side entrances. The Imperial symbol was stamped on the side, a tell-tale sign that the rebels were stealing them. It looked like a routine operation, one of the many he’d failed to stop when he was an agent. Hera was probably waiting with the Ghost somewhere close by. If Kallus could follow them, he was sure he’d find it.

The Spectres’ escape seemed to be going sufficiently well and Kallus started heading for the exit, hoping to get a heads up. He had barely passed two TIEs when he froze. The intimately familiar sound of two bo-rifles clashing rang through the hangar, Kallus’s heart skipping with every impact. 

He couldn’t bear to look. 

He had to look. 

Ever so slowly, he pivoted on his heels. Between the dark wings of two TIE fighters, he saw a part of himself he’d tried so hard to forget.

Agent Kallus was unleashing his fury upon his opponent, savage blow after blow. Zeb was holding up, parrying and counter attacking in the rhythm of their battle. They were circling each other, evenly matched.

From his hiding place, Alexsandr saw Sabine emerge from behind of the ship and gesture something at the rest of the crew. But with his head in the fight, Zeb didn’t. Both he and Agent Kallus got surprised by the explosion and were sent flying. They landed a good ten feet away from the crates Zeb was protecting, completely knocked out.

Sabine and Ezra didn’t lose a moment and went for the crates, hauling them away as fast as possible, while Kanan went to help his friend. All the troopers in the hangar were out, and it was time for the rebels to go. Alexsandr was searching through his memories, the sequence of events seeming familiar. What operation was this? Had he come close to capturing the Spectres that time?

He must have, because his past self was tentatively standing up, and had his rifle pointed to Zeb’s head. Suddenly, Alexsandr remembered. He remembered coming so close, and tasting a bitter defeat after Aresko had ordered the AT-AT to go forward and block the rebel’s escape. But the AT-AT leg had come between Kallus and Zeb. And stopped him from making a big mistake.

Aresko wasn’t here. And Agent Kallus was walking forward, his bo-rifle cocked and ready. Kanan was frozen, the ISB agent too close for him to force push him away from his crewmate, and Zeb was struggling to get up. Aresko still hadn’t given the order.

 _It’s because of you._ Alexsandr realized. _You’ve altered time. And now Zeb is going to die. Because of you._ He acted on instinct. 

He didn’t mean to silently slip from behind the ships, to raise his blaster, to put it right between his alter’s shoulder blades. 

But he did. 

“I am sorry, but I can’t let us do that.”

From where he was standing, he could see the look of shock on Kanan’s face. He was silently mouthing _what?_ and gripping his lightsaber handle so hard his knuckles were turning white. 

“Us? I see you rebels have added yet another misfit to your little crew,” Agent Kallus snickered. The imperial didn’t seem to realize _who_ was behind him.

“Drop the rifle,” Alexsandr retorted, pushing his blaster harder against the fabric.

“I don’t think so!” The agent spun around before Alexsandr could react. No that it mattered, because he stopped mid-movement when both Kalluses came face-to-face. His bo-rifle was inches from Alexsandr’s face, the golden-hued electricity reflecting in his eyes.

Facing his past self was like looking into a mirror that reflected all of Alexsandr's fears. That he hadn’t really changed. That, no matter what he did to atone, he would always be the man full of anger facing him. That he _could_ not, _would_ not be forgiven.

His double’s mask of rage dropped, replaced by something inscrutable. Confusion, disgust, curiosity maybe? His eyes were tracing Alexsandr’s face, his bearded jaw, his disarrayed hair, taking in the realization.

“It can’t _be_ ,” he said, so quietly only Alexsandr could hear it.

Agent Kallus dropped his rifle, the sharp sound it made on the ground ringing throughout the momentarily silent hangar. It was enough to shatter the fragile moment. Everything happened at once. Sabine yelled for Zeb, who ducked out of the way. Which was just the opening Ezra needed to zap both Kalluses with his slingshot. 

The high voltage going through his body was enough to knock Alexsandr out for the second time that day. He was trying his best to stay awake, keep control of the situation, but his consciousness was slipping. He could hear voices around him as his eyelids grew heavy.

“There’s _two_ of them?”

“I have _no_ idea, but we have to go. Now!”

“Sabine, grab the crates! Ezra, help me carry Zeb!”

“M’okay. Let’s just go before the rest of the bucketheads get here.”

 _Zeb._ Hearing that familiar voice, Alexsandr felt a smile grow on his face. He heard himself mutter something before he slipped away completely.

_“I’m glad you’re alright, love.”_

_\---_

_Zeb is pacing outside the briefing room. He’s been there for a long while and no one has come out yet. Hera is sitting on a bench next to him, rubbing her eyes._

_“Zeb. Sit down. They’re not going to go any faster, you know this.”_

_“It’s been two kriffin’ hours! What could be so important?”_

_Hera pats the seat next to her, inviting the Lasat to join her. He does, reluctantly. His ears keep twitching, searching from every sound coming from inside the room._

_“He was just gone, Hera. Just this weird light and then nothing,” he says, burying his head in his massive hands. His shoulders slump and he lets out a quiet groan._

_Hera shuffles closer, rubbing comforting circles on Zeb’s back._

_“Kallus is resourceful. He’s fine, I know it. All we can do for him is wait, and get this,” she holds up the data chip Zeb has salvaged from the station. “decrypted and analyzed.”_

_It’s another hour before the meeting ends. As soon as Crix Madine steps out of the door, he is hounded by a worried Twi’lek and an even more distressed Lasat._

_“This is about Captain Kallus, I suppose.”_

_“We need resources to find him, Madine. He’s vital to the rebellion, and you know it. We can’t just let him disappear like that,” Hera says, stepping right into the man’s personal space. She is not taking no for an answer._

_Madine is quick to give up. He writes something on his datapad, and hands it to her. She gives him a inquisitive look._

_“It’s a list of our best technicians. If there’s anything on that chip, they will find it.”_

_“Thank you.” Hera takes the pad and tucks it under her arm._

_“Don’t mention it.” He sighs. He starts walking away, stops, and turns toward Zeb. “I’m sorry. I hope you find him.”_

_Zeb’s ears drop, and he grips Hera’s shoulder tight. He gives himself a moment before answering._

_“I know we will.”_

[ ](https://imgur.com/EwnOSTE)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to @shippingandrecieving for beta-ing this!

“What were you thinking, bringing him back here?”

“I don’t _know_ , okay. He helped us escape, what was I supposed to do? Leave him?”

“It’s _Kallus_! The guy who’s been trying to kill us for like, a year?”

“There were _two_ of them!”

“Look, I think he’s wakin’ up.”

Kallus rose up to the sound of very, very loud arguing. His head was hurting like he’d had too much to drink and his mouth felt dry. The bright light was making it hard to see, everything appearing as large blurs of color. He scrunched his face, blinking a couple times, trying to make sense of his surroundings. 

A hand suddenly crossed his vision, waving back and forth. He tried to pull back, but something around his wrist was impeding his movements. 

“Yep, he’s awake.” The voice was familiar, but slightly distorted, like it was coming from a helmet communicator.

“Sabine?” Kallus asked meekly, still not having fully recovered his brain functions.

“And he knows who I am.” She pulled back and added, “Creepy.”

Kallus could see more clearly now, and he immediately recognized where he was. The cockpit of the Ghost. He felt a wave of relief wash over him, the tension in his chest releasing in a broken and manic chuckle. He’d made it. He was safe.

He could see the Spectres looking at him like he’d gone mad. Kanan was whispering something to a very angry-looking Hera while Ezra was frowning in his direction in what seemed to be an intimidation attempt. Chopper was nowhere in sight, which was more worrying than anything. Sabine was on the side, attempting to talk to- 

“Zeb!” Kallus exclaimed, a smile spreading on his face. The smile did not last long however, because his outburst earned him a zap from Chopper - _that’s where the bastard was hiding!_ \- and a furious growl from the Lasat.

“I don’t remember us being _friends_ , Agent.” Icy was not even close to how _cold_ Zed sounded. It made sense, Kallus tried to remind himself. At that time in their shared history, they were far from being friends. Even further from being lovers. 

“Sorry.” He answered, his voice nothing more than a whisper. He tried to turn away to hide the disappointment on his face, but his hands were bound behind his back and to the co-pilot chair he was sitting in. Clearly the Spectres did not think he was friendly.

Kanan stepped forward and put both of his hands on the armrests on each side of Kallus, looming over him. This close, Kallus could see how young the Jedi looked. He’d forgotten what his face looked like without the mask, he realized.

“So. What is your deal?” Kanan jumped straight to the matter at hand, losing no time.

“My deal?” Kallus backed into the chair, trying to regain his personal space. If Kanan thought he could use interrogation techniques on him, he was sorely mistaken.

“We just saw you hold Agent Kallus at gunpoint.” Kanan squinted at Kallus, hands gripping the armrests of the pilot’s chair tighter. “But you look exactly like him.”

“And you seem to know all of us.” Added Sabine from the back of the cockpit.

“Yes, that too. Point is,” Kanan took a step back and crossed his arms. “You’re either a clone or some very advanced droid. Unless the agent has a secret twin.”

“I bet on the droid theory. Not much of a difference between a bucket of bolts and Agent _Beep-Boop-Capture-The-Rebels-I-Am-A-Robot_ anyway.” Ezra interrupted, making stilted arms movement evoking a protocol droid, which made Sabine giggle. It even drew a lopsided smile from Zeb.

“Ezra.” Hera chastised the young padawan.

“What?! I’m not wrong.” Ezra retorted, a cheeky smile across his face.

“I’m not a droid, Bridger. But I don’t think you will like my version very much.” Kallus said, interrupting the banter. He needed to get to the point, and convince the crew to work with him. He was running out of time if ever wanted to catch Jovan.

“Try me.” Kanan crossed his arms and his frown deepened. It seemed like he had already decided the ex-imperial was not on their side.

“I was on a mission for the Rebellion, I got flung into some sort of portal and found myself about six years in the past,” Kallus said plainly. He knew it was a long shot, but he had no time to lose in lies and half-truths.

“You’re kidding.” Kanan’s eyebrows shot up.

“I am decidedly not.”

“That’s impossible. You can’t just expect us to believe time-travel is a real thing.” Sabine interjected loudly.

“You’re wearing an Imperial uniform. You look exactly like the ISB agent who is after our heads. Come on, you’re not here to _help_ us.” Kanan sounded more and more irritated by the minute.

“About that. I…”Kallus swallowed. Saying the next words brought him no pleasure. “You are correct. We are the same person.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I _am_ Kallus. Six years from now.”

“But you said you were working for the Rebellion,” Hera asked, her voice calm and matter-of-fact. She seemed to be the only one not phased with the revelation.

“Is that so hard to believe?”Kallus asked with a quiet chuckle, tilting his head to the side.

“Yes!” exclaimed the rest of the group in unison.

“I defected. I’m your side. I just-” He sighed and, with a determined look on his face, finished his request. “ I need your help.”

“Yeah, I don’t believe a word of that.” Kanan glared at Kallus, anger seeping through his eyes.

Kallus was used to desperate situations, even more so since he’d become a rebel. But this was bad. He turned to the one person he could count on -who’d been surprisingly silent since the interrogation began.

Zeb refused to even look at him. The Lasat was mumbling something, his imposing presence tucked into a corner of the cockpit. Even as his companions were starting to argue the veracity of Kallus’s words, he didn’t take part. His ears were twitching, just a flick here and there, but Kallus had known Zeb long enough to understand that something was bothering him.

Suddenly, Zeb broke away from the group, his flat nose up in the air, smelling _something_. The Spectres’ argument quieted down as they watched the Lasat sniff closer and closer to Kallus until his nose was almost flush to the man’s jaw.

“Karabast.” Zeb tore Kallus’s jacket collar open to reveal a fading mark on his neck. The telling shape of a bite had Zeb instantly recoiling, getting his face as far away from Kallus as he could in the crowded cockpit. He braced himself on the closed door, as if ready to flee.

“Zeb! What’s wrong?” Hera tried to get closer, but the Lasat pushed her hand away. 

“I-I think he’s telling the truth.” His fur was sticking up on his shoulders and arms, like a frightened loth-cat.

“And you know this how?” Kanan interjected, visibly confused.

“I marked him.” Zeb gestured at Kallus's neck with a shaky paw.

“Like, you bit him during a fight? Gross.” Ezra made a face of obvious disgust, sticking his tongue out for effect.

“It’s not that kind of bite,” Zeb grumbled, his eyes fixed on the floor. His ears were twitching wildly, and he struggled to elaborate, stumbling on the words. “It’s- uh- more of a romantic thing.” 

“Wait, wait, wait. You're saying you're dating _Agent Kallus_?” Sabine raised her voice, the pitch a little higher than usual.

Zeb growled at the suggestion, and Kallus felt his heart shatter.

“Why would I ever-” The Lasat raised his hands in the air, forming fists and releasing them. “Look, I don't understand this either, it's just that the bite is _there_.” He pointed aggressively at Kallus in the chair, causing the other man to turn away and conceal the mark as much as his restraints would allow.

Zeb growled again, even deeper this time, his fur ruffled. He pushed Hera and Kanan aside, and stormed out of the cockpit, grumbling “Karabast!” under his breath.

The rest of the crew took some time to recover from the sudden outburst, exchanging confused looks and shrugging shoulders. Kanan left, probably to go after Zeb. The remaining rebels ended up turning their attention to the handcuffed man in front of them.

“Are you?” Hera inquired.

“Pardon?”

“Dating Zeb.”

“I didn't intend to give away this much. I know how Garazeb felt about me. Before.” Kallus’s voice broke a little as he finished the sentence. Seeing his partner - _Just say boyfriend!_ Zeb would often joke- react so negatively at the mere suggestion that they could be together one day cut him deep.

“So you _are_ in a relationship with Zeb. Whenever you're from.” Hera’s voice was soft, almost familiar. Like General Syndulla was here, not the young Twi’lek interrogating him.

“I-” Kallus swallowed. “Yes. Garazeb is-” he chose his next words carefully, “-very important to me. I turned my back on the Empire because of him.”

Hera crossed her arms and cocked her head to the side. She looked more intrigued than suspicious as she sized Kallus up, trying to weigh the truth of his words.

The room stayed silent for a moment before Ezra mumbled, “This is so weird.”

“None of this makes sense, why would Zeb ever be with _him_?” the young Mandalorian shouted as she pointed her finger at Kallus. She was visibly upset and Kallus was not surprised. She always had been fiercely protective of Zeb. And she had made it known that she would not hesitate to hurt Kallus if it came to it when he’d started dating the Lasat.

Still, her words rang true. Why would Zeb ever be with him? Kallus asked himself that very same question every day. He knew he didn’t really deserve this man, not after all he'd done. When he had confronted his past self in the hangar, the look of pure hatred in his eyes had terrified him. He curled up, bringing his head down to his knees. He heard the rest of the crew’s voices, but he couldn’t bring himself to face them.

“Sabine, I think you broke future Kallus.”

“Oh, so we all believe he's from the future now.”

“You saw how Zeb reacted. I can't really think of any other explanation.”

Kallus felt someone move closer, and gently place a hand on his shoulder.

“Listen, I don’t think you’re lying. But you have to understand this is hard to swallow.” Hera explained, squeezing his shoulder in a comforting gesture.

“We’re going to move you somewhere more comfortable, okay?” She wasn’t really asking for Kallus’s opinion, just doing him favor by making him privy to their plans. It was a start, Kallus thought. Maybe he was going to get out of this predicament after all...

—-

Zeb was stomping to the corridor, heading directly towards his bunk. There were bad days, and then there were days like this one, where the whole world seemed like it was deliberately messing with him. _Kallus? His mate? In what kriffed-up universe would that happen?_

They should never have brought him back to the Ghost. He’s tried to convince Kanan to leave the man in the Imperial compound, with his brood, but no, the Jedi had to be noble and drag the doppelganger along. Zeb was fuming when he sat down on his bed. He couldn’t deny the mark, the _scent._ There was no other possible explanation: at some point in the future, he would… He could barely think about without feeling irrationally angry. 

And the way this other Kallus was acting towards him was unnerving: the smiles, the stares. Like he expected Zeb to _respond_. Zeb heard a knock on the door, snapping him out of his thoughts. In his anger, he had starting shredding the bedsheets he noticed when he tried to untangle his claws from the bed. 

“Zeb? Are you in there?”

“Yeah. C’mon in.”

Kanan entered the room, the door sliding close behind him. He sat beside Zeb in silence, pushing the damaged linen away. Gently, he splayed his hand across Zeb’s back and left it there, hoping the steady pressure would be comforting enough.

“So.” Kanan cleared his throat. “What happened in there, pal?” He patted Zeb’s back in an attempt to shake him out of his silence.

“I don’t _know_. He shouldn’t have that mark. It’s not right.” Zeb grumbled, tightening his hands into fists.

“But he does. What does that entail exactly?” Kanan insisted.

“It’s complicated.” The Jedi raised his eyebrows, silently telling his friend he’d better talk. “ _Fine_. It’s a way for Lasats to declare someone as their mate. It doesn’t show, with the fur and all, but it gets our scent on them.” Zeb explained, gritting his teeth.

“Future Kallus is your boyfriend,” Kanan uttered. He sounded like he couldn’t quite believe it despite the sheer amount of evidence.

“I really kriffin’ wish he wasn’t. I don’t care how much he’ll change, I don’t know how I could ever forgive this heap of bantha dung.” Zeb was clenching his fists so hard he almost made himself bleed. He couldn't hide how badly the reveal affected him. _How dare he? If Kallus was really to be his mate, that would mean he would betray the Lasat people once more. As if he wasn’t enough of a failure already._

“I’m sorry, Zeb. We’ll figure this out, I promise.” Kanan got up, intending to allow Zeb a little privacy. “When you feel ready, we’ll be on the bridge.”

“Thanks.” Zeb gave Kanan a half-hearted wave of his hand.

“Anytime, buddy.” Kanan slipped out, leaving Zeb by himself. The Lasat buried his face in his hand, his unsteady breaths muffled in his palms. Ashla, what had he done to deserve this?

He closed his eyes, to no avail. The image of Kallus, this bearded and long-haired Kallus, tenderly smiling as he dragged him onto the Ghost was haunting him. “My love.” Kallus had said, and Zeb had convinced himself he misunderstood. He couldn’t reconcile the man who’d been trying to kill him and his crew, who’d helped murder his people, with the one they had on board. 

_A lot can happen in six years,_ Zeb’s mind wandered. _But not_ _enough. Not enough to forgive._

\---

Kallus was sitting in the dark of Kanan’s room, his hands still in shackles. He could have broken free, with enough patience and a broken wrist, but he needed the crew of the Ghost to trust him if he ever wanted to get home. Breaking out wouldn’t exactly help with that.

He sighed, leaning back against the bed. Hera seemed to be warming up to him more than the others, which wasn’t surprising. They’d become good friends, back in the Rebellion, after Kanan had… Kallus shook his head, ridding himself of that thought. What he needed to focus on was catching Jovan and finding a way back to his own time. _If it’s still there._

A beam of light tore through the darkness, prompting Kallus to squint as he used his hands to shield his sensitive eyes. Hera entered through the door, letting it slide shut behind her. 

The Twi’lek was holding something in her hands, wrapped in cloth. Kallus managed to see his blaster, and… Something else?

"You had this on you.” Hera lifted her hand to reveal a data chip. It was weathered from use, the corners slightly rounded. “I didn't peek, it seemed personal."

"You could have. I have nothing to hide." Kallus shrugged.

Hera just raised an eyebrow at him and tossed him the chip. Impressively, he still managed to catch it with his hands cuffed up. Kallus ran his finger along the edge, and pressed a switch on the side, making a holo light up the dark room. Hera immediately recognized the faces. 

She saw herself, standing proud. Kanan was at her side, his eyes covered by a dark mask, sporting a full beard. Sabine and Ezra were there too, and she choked up realizing that they looked like adults, the upstart Jedi taller, his hair short, a scar running along his right cheek. Sabine's hair was yet another color, a dark purple. Her armor's design was different too. 

Hera's eyes continued running over the picture. A man with a white beard and holding a silly-looking helmet had his hand on Ezra's shoulder. He was a clone, she realized, but she didn’t recognize him. 

And to the right, she saw Zeb, grinning wide. He had his arm wrapped around the waist of a smiling Kallus, who looked just like the man sitting handcuffed in front of her. The fuller beard made him look softer, gentler. He looked like he belonged in the Rebellion with his earth-tones colored and loose-fitted outfit.

It was so odd to see, so unlike what she’d expected. The rebellion was still going strong, years later? They looked like they’d changed, but it was still her family. They were alive. A wave of relief washed over her as she clasped a hand over her mouth. _We make it._

“I suppose that’s proof enough?” Kallus said in a quiet voice. He couldn’t hide that the sight of the holo made him emotional as well, although for different reasons. It was the last time they’d all been together, just before Lothal. Just before losing Kanan and Ezra to the cruelty of the Empire.

Kallus kept the chip on him, whenever he went on missions. It was set to wipe itself clean at the first sign of trouble, so it wasn’t a security risk. But it gave Kallus strength just to feel its weight in his hands. He pressed the button again to shut down the holo-projector.

Except he didn’t shut it down. Maybe it was because of the cuffs, or the exhaustion, but instead he switched to a different holo. A child playing in the snow, Zeb at his side while they both gesture towards a snowman shaped like a Twi'lek.

“Who is-?” Hera asked, raising her hand towards the child’s face. He looked familiar somehow, but she couldn’t place where she would have seen him.

“It’s nothing important.” Kallus cut her off, shutting down the projector once and for all.

“Kallus.” Hera scolded him, like she would Ezra. Despite being a grown man, he winced a little, a Pavlovian reaction after being on Hera’s crew for a few years.

“I’m sorry, I can’t.” He murmured apologetically. He hoped she would understand. He’d messed with the past too much already, revealing Jacen’s existence was too much of a risk.

“Fine.” Hera rubbed at her forehead, visibly upset and tired at the day’s events. “But don’t think I’ll just forget about it”

“I wouldn’t expect you to.” Kallus smiled at her. A small smile, barely a curl of the corners of his mouth, but genuine nonetheless.

Something in Kallus’s expression softened Hera’s resolve. She knelt down in front of him and undid his cuffs. They fell to the ground with a metallic _clang_ , letting the man free to rub at his sore wrists.

“Why?” Kallus asked, bracing his arm on the edge of the bed as he stood up with Hera’s help.

“I’m a pretty good judge of character, Kallus. And I don’t think you mean us any harm.” She let her gaze wander across his face, trying to confirm her judgment. “But if you hurt my family, you _will_ pay for it.”

“I won’t hurt any of them. I swear to you.”

“Get yourself some food. We’ll talk in the morning.” She guided him towards the door. She gestured toward the back of the corridor “The kitchen is-“

“The door on the left. I remember.” Kallus gave her a gentle smile as he staggered towards the exit.

He was almost gone from her sight when he turned around.

“Thank you, Hera.”

The look of relief and gratitude in his eyes was enough to make her certain she’d made the right choice.

\---

Ezra was making himself a frankly indecent plate of what seemed to be a dinner made out of dessert when Kallus stumbled into the kitchen.

Instinctively, the Padawan reached for his lightsaber and ignited the blade, pointing it at Kallus’s face while he yelled something. It should have been menacing, but Ezra had a mouth full of whipped cream and all that came out was a garbled mess of syllables.

“It’s alright. I let him out, he’s with us.” Hera’s voice came for the ship’s internal comms.

“You’re serious about this?! It’s _Kallus_!” The boy managed to object after he swallowed the dairy.

“I trust him.”

“Fine. But I don’t have to like it.” Ezra grumbled as he sat back down, glaring at Kallus.

The older man was more amused than anything else. When he’d joined the crew, it had been Ezra who took the longest to warm up to him. Getting the boy kicked out of his cabin so Kallus could enjoy the company of his partner certainly hadn’t helped.

Ignoring Ezra’s aggressive chewing, Kallus fumbled around the kitchen, looking for the teabags he knew Hera kept somewhere. He didn’t trust his stomach to be ready for solid food, but he needed to calm down to plan his next move. He found a box in the back of the upper rack and took a bag out at random. _Coruscanti Nighttime_ , the wrapping read. Cheap, but it would do the trick.

Kallus grabbed the kettle from where he knew it was always kept, under the sink, and got some water boiling.

Behind him, Ezra cleared his throat.

“Jabba?” Kallus inquired, not even turning around.

“My name’s Ezra.” The young Jedi corrected with a grumble.

“I know. I was joking.”

“I didn’t know Imps could make jokes.”

“I’m not an Imperial.” _Not anymore._ Kallus’s mind corrected.

The kettle started whistling and Kallus assembled his drink, pouring the boiling water into one of the random cups from the Spectres’ kitchen. He sat down in front of Ezra, taking his time before removing the teabag.

“So. You’re really from the future.” Ezra was staring at Kallus, sizing the man up. He really did look different. And something in the force felt different as well.

“I am.” Kallus took a sip of tea, enjoying the warmth and comfort. He sensed himself start to relax, for the first time in what felt like weeks.

“And you’re Zeb’s boyfriend there?”

“...Yes.” Kallus instantly tensed up again. He was not ready for another interrogation about their relationship. It hurt too much to recall Zeb’s disgust from earlier.

“Even with the smell?!”

Caught by surprise, Kallus spit out his tea and started laughing, a loud snorting laugh that was so unlike the Imperial he used to be.

“Yes, Ezra. Even with the smell.” Kallus said with a chuckle. He meant it; the natural smell of a Lasat might have been stronger and muskier than a human’s, but he found it comforting. Homely.

They kept eating and drinking in silence for a while. Ezra was still on edge, but at least he wasn’t threatening him with a lightsaber anymore. _Progress_ , Kallus supposed.

The rest of the crew joined them a few minutes later. Well, expect for Zeb, whose absence spoke volumes. _He still can’t stand to see me_ , Kallus lamented. It made sense, but it didn’t hurt any less.

They sat down around Ezra, leaving Kallus alone on the other side of the table. 

“How did you find us?” Kanan broke the silence, direct as always. Hera gave him an angry glare, as she had specifically asked him to leave their guess alone for the night.

“A cadet named Zare Leonis helped me.” Kallus raised his cup and gestured at Ezra, unbothered. “A friend of yours and Jai Kell I believe.”

“Jai? Who’s that?” Ezra looked back at Kallus, visibly confused.

Kallus was equally lost. He was certain that a third cadet had been part of the escape back then, a Lothal native that had left the compound at the same time as Ezra. Maybe he was tired and misremember. It was late.

“I probably got some things confused. It’s been a long day and this was six years ago for me.” Kallus waved, trying to make the crew disregard his words. No need to make them think he was going insane, that certainly wouldn’t help his case.

“Fine. And then you fought...Other Kallus?”

“He -no- _I_ was about to kill Zeb. I would never let that happen.”

“This is so confusing. Do you have a first name or something so we don’t have to keep calling you _future Kallus_?” Sabine air quoted that last part, tearing a smile from the aforementioned future Kallus.

“Alex will do fine.” Not that many people actually called him that, except for his closest friends, but it would do. In a selfish way, it helped to separate himself from _Agent Kallus._ Alex was a rebel, an honorable man who didn’t hurt innocents in the name of a corrupt Empire. Alex was a better man than Kallus ever had been.

“Alex?!” Ezra and Sabine exclaimed in a simultaneous breath.

“You don’t look like an Alex.” Kanan gave Kallus a once over, like he was trying to associate the new name to the golden-haired man in front of him.

“Well, Alexsandr if you must know, but it is a mouthful. Most people call me Alex.” Zeb didn't. Zeb called him _Sasha_ , in a voice so tender it always made him melt.

“And how di-” Kanan started sitting up, bracing his hand on the table as he leaned towards Kallus.

“Love, I think _Alex_ is just as exhausted as all of us. We can talk more tomorrow, _after_ we’ve had some rest.” Hera interrupted Kanan, pulling on his shirt to sit him back down. 

“Sleep in my cabin tonight” She whispered in Kanan’s ear, so quiet that nobody else could hear. A shiver ran through the Jedi’s entire body as he tenderly grabbed her hand under the table. She always knew how to make him tick and he gladly surrendered.

“You can go to Kanan’s bunk when you want to rest.” Hera said as she turned back towards Kallus.

Kallus just nodded and took one last sip of his drink. Seeing the couple like that, still hiding their affections, unaware of what was to come, was making Kallus’s heart pinch. He had to stifle his desire to tell them everything, to save what he could now that he had the opportunity.

How cruel, that the universe was giving him a chance to make up for his mistakes, and yet he was unable to take it for fear of damaging the future even more. _Selfish_ , he thought, _that you would value your happiness over theirs._ He turned away, shame washing over him. 

Unable to watch the crew’s unsuspecting bliss any longer, Kallus stood up, heading for the sink with the empty cup in his hands. 

The same cup shattered on the floor instants later.

Kallus looked down, and gazed at the ceramic mess through his hands. _Through_ his oddly translucent hands. That the cup had simply _phased_ through.

“That’s not good.”

\---

_Zeb doesn’t relent in his search for Kallus. The chip revealed a lot, but not enough._

_He knows that Kallus is somewhere else, not quite in their world anymore. He doesn’t know if they can bring him back, but he believes. He_ **hopes**.

_The explosion tears down the wall of the Imperial compound on Dressel. Zeb steps over the debris, bo-rifle in hand, ready to defend himself._

_Lucky for the Lasat, the only opposition he faces is a pasty man in a lab coat screaming in fear. Truly terrifying. But Zeb isn’t there for jokes, he’s there because he needs answers. He’s there because something primal inside of him is raging against whoever took away his **mate**_.

_He walks through the group of terrified scientists until he catches a face he recognizes -humans look so similar but that face he won’t forget- and grabs whoever it belongs to by the collar._

_“You,” Zeb growls “You were working on Janus.”_

_“I-I don’t know what you mean!” The man squeaks, his feet barely touching the ground._

_“Oh yeah? I think you do, and you’re gonna tell me, unless you want to hurt.” Zeb snarls as he lifts the man even higher._

_“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please put me down! I’ll tell you everything!” The human is almost crying, which is pretty pathetic in Zeb’s opinion, because he hasn’t even grazed him. The Empire is really starting to scrape the bottom of the barrel with their men._

_“Glad to know you’re reasonable.” Zeb puts the man down, but keeps the end of his bo-rifle in the Imperial’s face. Just so he doesn’t get any ideas._

_“Now talk.” The barrel of Zeb’s bo-rifle pokes the scientist’s face._

_And Force, does he talk._


End file.
